Uncle Jimmy's Counsel
by J.P. D'Osty-Fernandez
Summary: Post-Doubt. Elliot stops by Casey's office one night after work.


**Uncle Jimmy's Counsel**

**-by J.P. D'Osty-Fernandez**

**-dedicated to police officers everywhere, who, underpaid and overstressed, put our safety before their own and, as ever, to Diane Neal, the wonderful young actress who brings Casey Novak to life.**

**Standard Disclaimer: Save for Gunnery Sergeant 'Crazy Jimmy' Novak and Cunningham, these are Mr. Wolf's characters, not mine.**

"Counselor…"

Casey looked up from the spreadsheet which she had been doggedly, but thus far fruitlessly, scrutinizing for the better part of an hour and a half. Elliot was standing hesitantly at her office door.

"Elliot! What are you doing here so late?"

"I might ask you the same thing. We got our verdict at quarter to five. Most people would just call it a day."

"Bring out the next contestant."

"What?"

"Ever hear of Carsten Stroud?"

"The novelist?"

"That's him. Once, he wrote this book about the U.S. Marshals. They catch this fugitive they spend the whole book chasing, and then the lead Marshal says 'Bring out the next contestant.' "

Elliot smiled. " 'Bring out the next contestant.' I like that."

His gaze then dropped to the spreadsheet on Casey's desk. "The Cunningham case?"

"Yah! Remember Huang said that his orderly ritual when he attacks, and the fact that he is meticulous enough to leave no evidence at the scene, might be an attempt to compensate for being a tremendous frustration at not being able to have order, or even any semblance, of control in his daily life?"

"And you think you're going to be able to find that in his financials?"

"No, I don't, actually. His ledger is as neat and orderly as his attacks. I'm cross-referencing the dates of the attacks with debits in his ledger."

Elliot looked up at Casey, his eyes uncomprehending.

"What would that prove?"

"There were no hairs found at any of the scenes, and all the surviving vics said the attacker was wearing black leather from head to toe. He tried to slash all of them, so, unless he was a professional assassin, he must have gotten some blood on his leathers. Yet, you guys didn't find any bloody leathers—or ANY leathers, for that matter—in his office, his apartment, his storage garage, his boat or either of his cars."

"Yes?"

"That means, a) he goes out and buys a whole new set of leathers before each attack, or b) he already has easy access to a supply of leathers. Like an investment in a retailer or a wholesaler, who wouldn't mind giving him the occasional sample for customers."

"Or he just happens to be there when they fall out the back of a truck."

"Exactly."

"But he wouldn't be dumb enough to put that into his books."

"Not directly, no. But there might be some disbursement of cash, or increase in assets."

"But Cunningham imports electronics equipment, not garments."

"Correct again. So, all we need to do is find out exactly who he does business with. If we turn up someone who is stealing and reselling leathers behind some dummy corporation, we threaten them with a RICO indictment and they'll be talking to us pretty quick."

"But only the Feds can do that."

"And there are many who would jump at the chance of another head mounted above their fireplace. These guys know that."

Elliot's eyebrows lifted in approval. "Impressive, Counselor."

"Thank you. But, you didn't come here to discuss the Cunningham case, did you?"

"No, no, I didn't…" Elliot said after a sharp intake of breath.

"Then why don't you come in and have a seat?"

Elliot entered Casey's office and slowly approached her desk. There was a tiredness about his gait, the kind of tiredness that does not come from heavy physical exertion. He sagged into the chair, arms listlessly falling upon the armrests. Casey folded up the spreadsheet.

"Elliot, what's wrong?"

Elliot's gaze met Casey's. There was renewed animation in his eyes.

"A lot of things, actually. In fact, that's why I came here. I know I haven't exactly been pulling my weight these days. You really saved my behind in court this week."

"I don't follow."

"Oh, c'mon! You know the evidence on this one wasn't the best. If we got a conviction, it was because you snatched victory from the jaws of defeat."

"It's what I get paid for, Elliot. We all have to work with the evidence we have. And, even if you guys recover the biggest, bloodiest smoking gun there is, we don't always win. Litigation is as much an art as a science."

"Maybe, but you happen to be a very good artist."

"I can only do my thing because you guys do yours well, Elliot. Why are you so hard on yourself?"

A half-laugh, half-snort came out of Elliot. "You know, I came here to apologise, but it doesn't look like I'm going to get a chance to do that."

"Apologise for what?"

Elliot exhaled. "For being a jerk and for being a real pain to work with the past few weeks."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"No, no I don't."

Casey leaned forward. "Elliot, I sensed there was something wrong. It's been ages since you taunted me with your wisecracks. And you have been so tense, of late. I wanted to ask, but I got the feeling you would tell me when you thought the time was right."

Elliot had been staring at the floor. His eyes flickered up, met Casey's for a second or so, and then returned to where they were.

"Kathy—my wife—she left me three weeks ago, and she took the kids."

"Oh, my God, Elliot. I am so sorry!" Casey got up, came around from behind her desk, and sat in the chair to Elliot's left. She put a gentle hand on his left arm, and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, not really. I have to figure this one out for myself. But, I just wanted to apologise if any of that spilled over and hit you."

"It didn't, Buddy!"

Elliot's eyes whipped up and locked Casey's in their gaze. Casey's hand did not move from where it was. If anything, her grip on his shoulder increased. Not enough to hurt, but just so slightly enough that Elliot would notice.

" 'Buddy?' " The first traces of a smile cracked across Elliot's face.

"YEAH, 'Buddy!'" A mock indignance swept across Casey's face as she pulled her hand off Elliot's left bicep. "Do you think I would bail just ANYONE out of a contempt charge?"

Elliot's smile widened. "As I recall, it was Judge Clark that did that."

"Now, you ARE being a jerk!" Casey smiled. "Yes, Mary bailed you out. But I went to the lockup to make sure you were all right. You mentioned something about thanking me for the time off."

"And you said 'You are NOT going to pin this on me!'"

"And then you thanked me for defending you before Taft."

"That was sarcasm. You didn't get that?" Elliot's smile had morphed into a smirk.

Casey's eyes narrowed, like those of a mother doubting her child's sincerity as he protests his innocence, streaks of chocolate upon his chin, of the charge of sampling the cake. "Oh, I got that, alright!"

"And then you mentioned something about my stunt making sure Taft would screw you during the trial, but that that was OK as long as my ego was intact."

"Yah!" Casey's confirmation of Elliot's statement came out as a half-laugh. Elliot chuckled as well. A few seconds of sporadic giggling ensued. Then, they both were silent, looking at each other.

"Elliot, I can't tell you how good it is to hear you giving me a hard time again."

"Yeah, it feels good too."

"Thought so. You Marines get off on riding other people."

"Marines? What would you know about Marines?"

"My Uncle Jimmy is a Marine."

"Gunnery Sergeant 'Crazy Jimmy' Novak? That's your uncle?"

"That's the one."

"You know, he was a legend when I went through Parris Island."

"Yeah, I found that out from my grandfather. He was very proud of Uncle Jimmy and his Navy Cross from Hué . Uncle Jimmy never talked about his time in the Corps though. When he got out, he went to work for the Director of Civilian Marksmanship. But he positively LOVED baseball. My Dad had shown my brothers how to play. Uncle Jimmy didn't have any kids of his own—he was divorced twice—so he shared his love of the game with me. He showed me how to pitch and hit a curve ball. By the time I was ten, I already won my first CYO trophy. And I got it because of Uncle Jimmy."

"Crazy Jimmy and girls' baseball. I'd have never thought he had a soft side."

"Soft side, my butt! He used to have me run for stamina, and he would encourage me by yelling "Holy cow, Casey! I seen turtles that can run faster than you!" And when I missed the ball, it would be 'Geez-a-loo! You know, you ARE allowed to keep your eyes open when the pitcher throws the ball! I think we're gonna have to tell your Daddy to change your name from 'No-vak' to 'No-hit! Casey No-hit!' And I was all of like seven at the time."

"That was cruel of him!" Elliot frowned.

"He knew who he was dealing with. I didn't get hurt. I got mad. And when I get mad, I fight harder."

"Yeah, some of us kinda noticed that." The smirk came back to Elliot's face

"I'm glad you did. Uncle Jimmy always said 'It's a cruel world! If you don't want to get eaten, then don't get sad, get mad!' "

Elliot's face darkened "He's right, it is a cruel world."

"Yes, it is." A somber but determined look came across Casey's face. "You know, when I first came to SVU, I didn't think I could hack it. I didn't want it. I wanted straight homicide with no living victims. I asked Liv what she told her boyfriend. She said she didn't have one. Then, I half-asked, half said something like 'It must be easier for the male detectives.' Liv answered 'Well, let's see…Elliot never talks about work at home. Fin never talks about his love life at work. And Munch has just about given up.' I have to tell you, Elliot, I was always amazed how you could pull it off…you know, being a Dad and a husband and then having to deal with this sickness, this perversion every day."

"Well, I'm NOT pulling it off any more. That's the problem."

"Yes, it is a problem. But, the fact that you pulled it off for so long says a lot about you. I haven't been able to have a relationship longer than a couple of dates since I came to SVU, and it sure isn't because of the hours. You were able to. And I deeply respect you for that."

"Thanks Casey!" Elliot's gratitude was since, and warm " I just wish I could pull it off again, you know? Not being able to see the kids and Kathy when I get home, that really…gets to me."

He leaned back in the chair and looked down to the floor again.

"Some times, I don't think I'm going to make it, you know?"

"Yes…I know. I felt like that every night for the first few weeks I was here. I felt like dropping out…of everything… I just couldn't shut it off. I wasn't sleeping well…some nights not at all.

"Then, one Saturday afternoon, Uncle Jimmy came up for the Phillies game. He figured out something was wrong when I didn't respond to his usual asinine and ill-informed aspersions about the Yanks. He didn't say anything during the game, but after dinner, when we got back to my parent's place, he pulled me aside and said 'Casey'—that was one of the few times he called me 'Casey;' without the "No-hit'—he said 'Casey! Something's wrong. What is it?'

"There was no point in denying it, and he wasn't going to go away without me telling him. So, I did…I told him everything…about the nightmares…about waking up in the middle of the night sweating…about…thinking of ending it all…and Elliot, I was bawling away. It just came out like a dam had burst. I was very angry, very hurt. I told Uncle Jimmy, 'If you're just gonna make fun of me like you did when I missed the ball, then shove it! I don't need it! Not today!'

"As soon as I said that, he put both his arms around me and he hugged me real tight. He said 'Casey, Buddy, you're doing good! Just let it out. Just let it all come out. You been keeping this inside you too long. Just let it all wash out…

"I was sobbing for what felt like forever. Eventually, I got control of myself again, and I told Uncle Jimmy 'Thanks…I'm OK.' He said 'Good, Casey. Now, why don't you go to the ladies' room and clean up a bit. You'll feel even better.' He didn't look at me in the face. He respected me enough to leave me some dignity.

"So, I went to the bathroom, and poured some water over my face to wipe away the streaks from my tears. When, I came out, Uncle Jimmy was there. He took my hand in his, and said 'C'mon, let's go for some fresh air.'

"We went out on the porch. Uncle Jimmy sat me down on the porch swing and sat next to me, still holding my hand in his, tight, but gentle. After a long time had passed, he said 'You know, Casey, for years I had problems sleeping. All those kids I left behind in Vietnam…their faces…they would always come back to me at night…and the screams, the sobs, the pleading…asking God that they wouldn't die…asking for their mothers…all of them too young to vote, but old enough that some scumbag puke of a politician could send them off to get killed or maimed…That's why I was such a bastard to you when I was teaching you the game. '

"I started to try to tell him "No, no…' but he wouldn't have any of it. He said 'Now, now, I wasn't apologizing for it. I was just stating a fact. If I hadn't been such a bastard, you wouldn't have gotten mad enough to want…I mean REALLY WANT to win. I don't regret none of it, because I realized later that subconsciously, I wanted to do all that I could to make DAMN sure you wouldn't end up like those poor kids…No, what I want to tell you is that I still see those faces every night. Days too sometimes. I'll be frank with you Casey'—as if he ever was any other way with me!—'Things like that don't go away. You have to learn to live with it.'

"So, I asked him how, how did he do that day in, day out. And he told me 'That's just it, Casey. Day-by-day. You do it one day at a time. Some days will be bad…real bad. But some days, it won't be so bad. And every day above ground is a gift. Just hang in there, Casey. You're not a quitter. If you were, you would have given up the first time I made a comment about your running. You can't run away from this. It's just not in you. Oh sure, you'd get away, but just for a day or two. Then you wouldn't be able to live without it.'

" 'But, day-by-day, Casey, day-by-day. That's the only way you're going to be able to keep it together. Day-by-day.' "

Elliot looked into Casey's eyes, the two of them silent for a long time.

"Sounds like Uncle Jimmy knows what he's talking about." Elliot said, finally.

"It sure works for me."

Another long silence ensued.

"Sure," said Elliot, "I'll give it a try. Day-by-day."

He rose. Casey did too.

"Hey, listen, I've kept you too long. Thanks, Counselor!"

"Not a problem!"

Elliot put his arms around Casey and gave her a firm hug. Casey reciprocated.

"You're a real pal, Casey."

"Anytime, Elliot, anytime. And remember…day-by-day…"


End file.
